


pins on a map

by ljubavi



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Coming of Age, Feelings Realization, Getting Together, M/M, Multi, Open Ending, Pining, Polyamory Negotiations, Sort Of, aka guess which part of california op is from, donghyucks in love with his best friends, excessive amounts of boba consumed, lots of summer vibes, minimal angst, mixed in with just a dash of slow burn, the ultimate trope....best friends to lovers, theyre all in college
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-24
Updated: 2020-02-24
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:20:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22876210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ljubavi/pseuds/ljubavi
Summary: “Sorry,” Jeno apologizes, smiling in that beautiful way of his. “Didn’t see you there.”And Donghyuck really does start crying again, tears trickling down his cheeks as he tightens the grip he has around Renjun’s waist and now Jeno, digging his face deeper into Renjun’s neck to conceal himself. No fluorescent lighting to crack him wide open, but it doesn’t matter. Donghyuck has already laid himself bare for both Renjun and Jeno in this empty parking lot.
Relationships: Huang Ren Jun/Lee Donghyuck | Haechan, Huang Ren Jun/Lee Donghyuck | Haechan/Lee Jeno, Huang Ren Jun/Lee Jeno, Lee Donghyuck | Haechan/Lee Jeno
Comments: 37
Kudos: 170





	pins on a map

**Author's Note:**

> [NOT CLICKBAIT] user straysncts finally posts nct fic after two years of not writing any n its of course something very specific n a rare pair......welcome to my life. This is who i am now i see a donghyuck centric pairing n decide i have no choice but to write it
> 
> im a bit nervous about this fic because i didnt have the best experience writing nct fic in terms of a few nasty comments T__T i stopped writing for a while because of it but i had the idea for this fic a few months ago n i thought it was time to finally write some nct fic!

Maybe it’s the fluorescent lighting.

Donghyuck sips his strawberry lemonade smoothie amidst all the buzz in their local tea shop, looking around the crowded space curiously and with the sort of hunger that comes from not coming home for months at a time. There’s a mix of overeager high school students with shiny car keys and worn-down college students home from break, discordant and clashing but familiar. The whir of the bubble tea machine as it covers cups is comforting, and the glare of the lighting above him strangely soothing to his eyes.

 _It’s been too long,_ Donghyuck thinks forlornly. A strange feeling thrums throughout his body—going down all the way to his toes—at the thought of seeing Jeno and Renjun after so many months. (When they last met, it was summer and Renjun was radiant and the white-blonde of Jeno’s hair was all he could think about and nothing about the impending approach of fall and college).

And then something shifts. Donghyuck hears the familiar pitch of Renjun’s voice floating over the dissonance, followed by Jeno’s lower one as the door to the shop opens, and his head back snaps up without a second thought.

“Donghyuck!” Jeno calls, and it sends a shiver of excitement down his spine. Miles and time separate them for most months out of the year but nothing will ever take away the feeling he gets when he hears Jeno call his name in that way, the kind that makes Donghyuck’s heart race.

Donghyuck isn’t usually one for hugs, but it’s winter and Jeno’s wearing a horrendously ugly Christmas sweater and Donghyuck is already barreling across the too small tea shop, ignoring the curious stares they get from the customers and workers in favor of looping his arms around Jeno.

Then, “Hey! He’s not the only one back, you know. Where’s my hug?”

And so it becomes a three-person hug. Renjun and Donghyuck almost bump foreheads trying to tuck their chins on the same side of Jeno’s shoulders and suddenly they’re in high school all over again, laughing too loudly and garnering the attention of the crowd surrounding them.

Maybe it’s the fluorescent lighting. Donghyuck laughs harder than he has in months and Renjun’s face burns red under glaring white light and it’s all so entrancing. There’s something so incredibly entrancing about this tea shop that they always meet at, something captivating and alluring about his best friends standing besides him.

They all slide into the same squeaky seats, and Donghyuck finds himself staring at the blush painting Renjun’s cheeks from the cold. Jeno sits next to him, no signs of blush but his eyes are warm and hold stories Donghyuck yearns to hear.

For a fleeting moment, they’re quiet. Sort of like they’re all collectively thinking, _It’s good to be back, to see each other once more._

And it is—good to be back, that is. The fluorescent lighting is somewhat awful and surely makes him look distorted but it is home and Jeno looks angelic because of it and the red of Renjun’s cheeks is even redder.

Renjun is the first to break the silence, pointing towards Donghyuck’s smoothie. “Are you _ever_ going to get a real drink?”

And it’s all history from there. The slide into conversation is a smooth one despite the change of seasons and miles of time between them, and they sit under the flickering of fluorescent lighting as people come and go, as workers change shifts and give them strange looks when Jeno laughs too loudly or Renjun describes his drunken roommate trying to punch someone when he’s clearly never thrown a punch before.

The only thing that doesn’t change, that remains the same? Donghyuck, Jeno, and Renjun, of course. 

They’re a constant, here in the corner of their melancholy tea shop.

—

Goodbyes are drawn out and end with a group hug in the empty parking lot. Empty because they stayed too long and because none of them really want to leave just yet, despite how late it’s getting.

“I really missed you guys,” Renjun’s voice is muffled from the scratchy material of Jeno’s sweater (a gift from his parents, they learned) and Donghyuck can’t tell who’s who anymore, with no fluorescent lighting to reveal the outlines of their bodies, where they meet and separate.

Jeno’s grip tightens around the two of them, and for a moment, Donghyuck wishes that they could stay like this, a scene frozen in time and untouched by the multitude of barriers and obstacles that separate them. That they could drift back to the security and warmth of their little tea shop whenever they felt like it.

But it’s late and Donghyuck has a curfew because he’s _home_ now and autonomy doesn’t _exist_ at home, where he is not a 19-going-on-20 college student but Lee Donghyuck, his mother’s son and under _her_ roof.

Donghyuck is the first to pull away from the two of them but he manages to twine their hands together briefly, so that they’re standing in a lopsided circle and squeezes one last time. And then they’re splitting off, drifting away like leaves off of a tree and heading to their separate cars.

Jeno calls out to them about their plans next week when he unlocks his car, and Donghyuck yells across the parking lot in agreement, startling the old lady in the car next to his. Renjun shouts something as well but Donghyuck is already halfway into his car so he manages a wave and hopes it isn’t anything too important.

What follow is the same cycle as always. Renjun drives through the parking lot like it’s a school playground filled with kids and Jeno has to coax his beat-up car into starting. Donghyuck listens to the engine stall once, twice, and then smiles when it finally roars to life, reassured.

When he backs out of his parking space, Jeno lifts a hand from the steering wheel and smiles like he knows something Donghyuck doesn’t. He somehow ends up at the stop sign at the same time as Renjun, the next lane over, and finds himself honking to get his attention.

Renjun rolls down his window and shouts, “Can’t get enough of me, can you?” 

Donghyuck shakes his head, laughing at the implication. (He’s thinking, _You don’t even know_ ). Behind him, an engine roars and his eyes flit to the rear view mirror out of curiosity.

 _Jeno,_ he realizes. Donghyuck cranks down his window in favor of waving half-assedly behind him, and smiles when Jeno’s engine roars in response.

It _is_ good to be back. 

Like red pins dotted across a map, they go their own ways, to their own destinations. Connected by loose threads, but still separate.

(Renjun’s right. He can’t get enough of him).

—

Donghyuck climbs up the stairs of his childhood home and laments the past he’s left behind. 

The yellow of his bedroom walls is peeling and worn from his time away, but the sight soothes his eyes and grounds him to reality.

It’s easy to pretend that nothing’s changed when he throws his keys onto the dresser and searches for an old t-shirt to replace the slightly more acceptable sweater he’s currently wearing.

It’s easy to pretend nothing’s changed as he drinks in the sight of his old superhero posters taped up on the walls, a reminder of his past and the lingering child in him. His mouth still tastes like strawberries and lemon but he crawls into bed with no energy to wash his face or brush his teeth. 

Here, in the walls of his old bedroom, there’s no fluorescent lighting to tear him apart or put him on the hot spot. No Jeno or Renjun or the sounds of their laughter. Just him and the faded mementos of his childhood, a past he traded for the aching, melancholy feeling of college dorm life and growing up, leaving his childhood friends behind without much thought.

When’s the last time he heard from Mark? There aren’t enough fingers to count on or memories to linger through for him to remember the boy he talked to everyday without fail, before they made new friends and moved on. (But Mark is on the East Coast now and posts photos of Times Square and city lights on social media every chance he gets, like he’s a tourist and not someone who lives there. He’s a stranger and Donghyuck wishes he wasn’t).

What about Jaemin, the first boy he ever truly liked? The one who worked at the corner store and never asked too many questions when Donghyuck came in during the middle of the night to buy snacks and sometimes questionable items? Donghyuck isn’t even sure what college he went off to. Or if he went to one at all.

Is that what it means to grow up? 

Or Chenle, the underclassman he’d somehow accidentally befriended after his dog pulled him through the park and barreled right into Chenle. Or Jisung, the kid who trailed behind him for months like some sort of exciting puppy, heart on his sleeve and eyes full of hope. It’s funny how easily he forgets the people in his life when he leaves them behind. Not purposefully or with malice. That’s just how life works, isn’t it?

Donghyuck is grown up now. Drifting apart from the memories of people he used to know and disconnecting from his childhood town must be part of it.

He isn’t sure, but the low, dull feeling aching through his chest tells him that it probably is.

(So many questions but no tangible answers).

And so Donghyuck mourns the loss of his childhood within the yellow walls of his bedroom and the moon slipping in through the faded curtains he forgot to bring with him when he left for college more than a year ago.

—

They’re the first people he tells. 

(The thought of telling anyone else petrifies him, and there’s no one he trusts more than Jeno and Renjun).

To 16 year-old Donghyuck, it’s like shedding every layer of secrecy folded against his body and laying himself bare. To them, it’s a sign of trust.

“I think I might like boys,” Donghyuck says. He’s flat on his back on Renjun’s bed, throwing one of those stress balls into the air and catching it every few seconds or so. Jeno’s face appears above his own after he admits the one thing he’s been hiding ever since he caught himself looking at the boy in his English class one time too many, a smile on his face.

“Cool,” is all he says in response. Donghyuck isn’t sure what exactly he was expecting from his friends, but he’s 16 and thinks coming out is supposed to carry a sense of splendor with it, that it comes with bravado and praise and so much more than this. 

“Thank you for telling us,” Renjun says from across the room, where the drone of his fan is the loudest. He looks up from what he was drawing to smile over at him, and they all leave it at that. Nothing like the _You’re so brave for coming out_ or _I think I’m the same way_ he’s seen in movies and read in books, when he used to desperately hope for that same sort of validation.

What he does get is Renjun telling the kid in their history class to stop calling everything gay after noticing Donghyuck’s hesitancy clenched tightly in curled fists. What he gets is _Jeno_ , the one person in their friend group he can’t imagine as anything but straight, saying he’ll go with him to the meetings for the GSA club that just formed. That he doesn’t have to go with his sexuality on his sleeve for everyone to see, that he can go as an ally and no one has to know.

So maybe coming out isn’t anything special to 16 year-old Donghyuck. Nothing really changes, but Donghyuck is happier. The weight on his shoulders is lighter, and he thinks he’s a force to be reckoned with now that his friends know. It becomes easier.   
  


He doesn’t need grandeur or excitement. All he needs are his best friends.

—

Donghyuck tucks his hands into the pockets of his jacket and dips his chin down towards his scarf, trying to stay warm in the chilly evening air.

(California is supposed to be mild in the wintertime, but it doesn’t _feel_ that way to him).

It’s a short walk to the bubble tea shop but his nose is red and his eyes glossy from the winter wind by the time he pulls open the same creaking door he always does, searching for Renjun and Jeno.

Coming home is just him searching for pieces of his past and desperately clinging to them with the hope he doesn’t lose all he’s ever known. 

So maybe Donghyuck is a little melodramatic, but that’s how he _feels._ He feels as if he’s spinning too quickly in his orbit, losing pieces of himself and falling apart with every mile he puts between himself and his old home.

Renjun’s sitting in the corner this time, away from the crowd and already sipping his drink. Donghyuck smiles at the sight of him and his dark green sweater, smiles because _fuck,_ has he missed Renjun and his warm eyes.

Jeno’s nowhere to be seen but his car has a tendency to bail on him at the worst times (like when they went hiking with no service and Donghyuck left without him, only for his car to break down shortly after) and he never shows up anywhere on time so Donghyuck squeezes through the crowd, floating over to Renjun with that stupid smile on his face.

The chair lets out an embarrassing _squeak_ when he attempts to pull it out, and it finally gets Renjun’s attention.

“Donghyuck!” Renjun says, and it’s enough for him to think they’ll be okay. Equal parts reassurance and hopefulness give Donghyuck the strength to believe Renjun and Jeno won’t become history, a piece of the past he laments whenever he’s in town. He wants them to be more than that.

“Want some?” Renjun asks, holding up the yellow-orange of his tea and shaking it slightly. Donghyuck shakes his head, scrunching his nose.

Renjun laughs over the din of the thinning crowd, unsurprised. “For someone who insists we meet here every time, you seriously do _not_ like bubble tea.”

Donghyuck shrugs, pulling his hands out of his pocket to tug at the scarf around his neck. Maybe it’s the fluorescent lighting. Or the crowd, but it feels oddly warm in here.

“I like it here,” Donghyuck mutters, defending himself. A pause, and then he finds himself filling the silence. “Where’s Jeno?”

Renjun breaks out into a smile, wide and unrestrained. “He texted me saying he’s on his way! His car was being weird again. You know how he is.”

Oddly enough, relief floods Donghyuck’s body. It turns out that some things never change. Like fluorescent lighting, empty parking lots to hug in and shitty cars that stall without fail. Loud laughter within the same tea shop and goodbye hugs under a sea of stars, coupled with a strange sense of melancholy and yearning.

Donghyuck is used to it. To them, and everything that comes along with Jeno and Renjun. Time has not taken that away from him, and he is grateful.

—

One of the few things people told him about high school was that friends come and go the way the ocean rides do, and it was the sort of thing that Donghyuck refused to believe. To him, Renjun and Jeno were permanent. The boy he met in middle school and came to know as Mark was permanent too, despite the short length they’d been friends. (Donghyuck believed a little too much when he was younger).

As it turns out, he learns that friends do come and go, and Donghyuck loses Mark gradually, a contrast to the suddenness with which he appeared in their lives.

He’d become a part of their trio shortly before they all began high school, a strange sort of kid with too much excitement in the mornings and a bit of a lisp whenever he spoke too fast.

But Mark was Mark, and Donghyuck loved every part of him, even when they all started high school together and their schedules stopped overlapping as much.

Losing Mark was gradual. He stopped showing up for lunch every once in a while, but Donghyuck never said anything. Jeno would say he saw him earlier in the day, and then they’d move on, trying to fill the emptiness left behind by Mark.

And then Mark would come back, saying he had a club or a teacher to meet with, and they all settled comfortably into their little circle, the previous days already forgotten.

Losing Mark was gradual. Donghyuck would go days without seeing him at lunch or after school, when they all went to the corner shop Jaemin worked at to buy popsicles. But no one ever said anything, because Mark was Mark, and none of them were too fond of drama.

So they moved on. Mark made his own friends in high school, and Donghyuck tried not to bear any resentment against him for it. He still smiled at him in the hallways and partnered with him in their shared English class, but they never once talked about it, about the drifting apart and the way Donghyuck had to learn to forget all of Mark’s habits and catchphrases. About how Donghyuck deleted Mark from his contacts because they stopped texting altogether.

Losing Mark was gradual.

—

It’s dizzying, to see so many stars at once.

Donghyuck is so focused on the inky blue of the night sky that he doesn’t realize Jeno’s saying something until he’s waving a hand in front of his face.

“Sorry, can you repeat that?” Tearing his eyes away from the stars is easy when it’s replaced with the sight of Jeno, who’s wearing a beanie and smiles at him brighter than any other star.

 _Stupid,_ Donghyuck thinks. He’s stupid. What happened to the stream of jokes between them? When did that change, become something else? Maybe it was somewhere along the line of Donghyuck developing—

“I asked if you wanted coffee. Renjun packed some for us,” Jeno repeats, cutting off his flow of thoughts. Relief floods his veins.

Donghyuck shakes his head despite the cold chilling his bones and the metal hood of Jeno’s car reminding him that it is _winter_. 

Renjun peeks out from behind Jeno’s shoulder, waving a thermos. It’s so familiar and so different. They’ve never gone stargazing before but Renjun is always prepared, always steady and focused. Some people don’t change, and Renjun is one of them.

Donghyuck wouldn’t dare say it out loud, but he loves that about Renjun. Reliability is hard to come across, and Renjun stores an ocean’s worth of it within the overflowing chambers of his heart.

Jeno’s a bit of an enigma. He’s late to every meeting and hangout and forgets to check his messages more often than not but he is unequivocally _there_ for him and Renjun when they need it the most. Unsteady, but also the best friend Donghyuck has.

Without really meaning to, Donghyuck sneaks a peek at his two best friends. Even now, when everything is changing and life is moving at a rapid pace, ever changing and terrifying, Donghyuck feels at _ease_ when he’s with them.

Donghyuck feels _reassured_ and _steady_ because he is not alone. College is cramped and overwhelming and abundant with countless opportunities for bad decisions but at the end of the day, when all is said and done, he always comes back to them. And they always come back to him, no matter what.

Tearing his gaze away, Donghyuck feels a little embarrassed for staring.

“You know,” Jeno begins, breaking the silence as if it never even happened. “I’m really glad we made plans together.”

Donghyuck thinks that if it was possible, his heart would swell to fill the confines of his rib cage, override his lungs and brain and all other vital organs, simply because of Jeno’s words.

“Yeah,” Donghyuck agrees, nodding. “So am I.”

Across the hood of the car, Renjun smiles at the two of them. “You know it’s been like, over five years since we started high school?”

Donghyuck frowns, freeing his hands from the confines of his jacket to confirm the fact. This is the first half of their second year of college, so go back five years and yeah, it’s really been that long.

He takes a deep breath. _Five years,_ he thinks. Time is not their companion, it seems.

Jeno shakes his head. “Crazy how time flies.” Echoes Donghyuck’s thoughts like he can hear what he’s thinking, and leans back against his windshield, looking up at the stars with a borderline sad expression.

“I’m glad we stayed in touch,” Jeno continues, and _oh,_ they’re really going there tonight.

Donghyuck shrinks in on himself, picking at a stray thread on his jacket as he says, “I’m surprised we didn’t drift apart. That’s what everyone says happens,” in a small voice. 

One hand behind his neck, Jeno confesses his own secret too. “I thought it would happen too. Especially since we all committed to different colleges.”

Donghyuck forces himself to look up at the sky. He can’t look at them right now, can’t face the way they’re baring all of his fears and anxieties about what growing up does to people.

“I don’t blame you,” Renjun says. “So much has changed since high school. It wouldn't have been surprising if we really _did_ lose touch eventually.”

Donghyuck finds himself blinking away tears, like he’s nothing more than a faucet and Jeno and Renjun have cranked him wide open, allowing vulnerability and emotions to spill through his body.

Renjun gives him a sidelong glance, still smiling. “Donghyuck, are you crying?”

Donghyuck shakes his head stubbornly, angling himself away from the prying eyes of his best friends. But Jeno’s sitting back up again and leaning forward, arms wrapping around his waist and a chin hooking over his shoulder as Renjun says, “You _never_ cry,” in a voice mixed with equal parts disbelief and sadness.

And then Renjun scoots across the trunk of the car—which isn’t a good idea in hindsight, because it shifts and Donghyuck grips the smooth slope of metal to ground himself—to press closer towards the two of them.

“I’m fine,” Donghyuck insists stubbornly. It’s just that they’ve all grown up now and college stresses him out even when he’s on break and he wishes everything would go back to _normal._ He wants to be a kid again and meet Jeno and Renjun in the courtyard of their high school in between classes and joke around about the awfulness of high school physics and the impending doom of standardized testing.

But Donghyuck is 19-going-on-20 now and that means he’s in that phase of his life where he’s almost an adult but not quite, stuck in limbo and learning to navigate his way through life. Without his best friends, of course, because college is time consuming and they’re so _far_ from each other, with Renjun down in L.A. and Jeno up in Seattle.

Renjun reaches for his hand, and not even the blinding light of a car driving down the side of the road is enough for Donghyuck to flinch. His nose is runny and he’s never been so embarrassed by something, but he accepts Renjun’s hand gratefully and tries his best to ignore it.

It’s like high school all over again, when Donghyuck was even more dysfunctional than he is now and thought the world was going to end over a failed test or his parents fighting over seemingly nothing for the hundredth time. It’s all so familiar but so different.

Renjun leans his head against Jeno’s shoulder, and the three of them are connected again. Not by the same school or homes, but by their bodies and the warmth that accompanies them. Renjun leaning on Jeno’s shoulder, and Jeno on Donghyuck’s shoulder, arms around his waist. Renjun’s hand is warm in Donghyuck’s cold one, but it’s okay. They’re connected and grounded to each other, and Donghyuck couldn’t ask for anything more.

“Are you okay?” Jeno asks, breaking the silence between Donghyuck’s pathetic sort of sniffles.

“I’m fine,” Donghyuck repeats, echoing his earlier words. “Just really glad you guys stayed by me even though you didn’t have to.”

Surprisingly enough, Jeno laughs at that. “Don’t you know? You’re basically stuck with us now.”

“Yeah,” Renjun chimes in, smiling lopsidedly, “There’s no getting rid of us at this point. We’re in it for life.”

Donghyuck laughs despite himself, freely leaning back against Jeno’s chest, warm and solid behind him. His free hand searches for one of Jeno’s until they’re connected too, leaving him content.

“Okay,” Donghyuck finally says, caving in. “For life it is.”

“For life,” Renjun echoes. Behind him, Jeno does the same, and it feels like their relationship is solidifying, becoming more and more concrete with every passing moment.

(“Also, for the record,” Renjun adds later that night, when Jeno’s driving them all home, “You know way too much about me for us to ever stop being friends.”)

—

Goodbyes are melancholy. Donghyuck doesn’t see them off on their last days because those are reserved for family and he’s scared of crying if he does that, so they say goodbye in the parking lot of their town’s shopping center.

Standing in an empty parking space, Donghyuck mourns their impending parting. Renjun looks at him with a slight pout on his lips and watery eyes, and Jeno looks everywhere _but_ the two of them.

(He only does that when he’s trying not to cry).

Renjun, like he knows what they’re thinking, breaks the silence for them. “Summer break?” His voice is hopeful and on the verge of cracking. 

Donghyuck nods his head forcefully, and Jeno shoves his hands in his pockets, biting his lip.

“That’s so far away,” Jeno finally says, and his voice is surprisingly steady for someone with tear filled eyes and trembling lips.

“It’ll go by quickly,” Donghyuck lies. If there’s one thing college has taught him, it’s that time only works against them, not for them. But he has no other comfort to offer either of them, so he sticks to his best option and hope it works.

“Yeah,” Jeno agrees, but he sounds partially unconvinced. His eyes flutter shut momentarily, and Donghyuck can see his eyelashes fanning out over his pale cheeks under the street lamps lighting up the parking lot. The moment doesn’t last long though, because Jeno blinks his eyes open to look at the two of them soon enough.

“I’m gonna miss you guys,” Renjun blurts out, before either of them try to speak. Donghyuck finds himself blinking back tears the way he did when they sat on the hood of Jeno’s car, wondering why goodbyes never get easier.

(Maybe it’s because they’re recurring, because he gets to see Renjun and Jeno time and time again, only to have to part ways soon enough. Like reopening an old wound.

Renjun and Jeno are a wound on his heart, unhealing and persistent).

“I’m gonna miss you too,” Donghyuck responds, and then he pouts a little because it really isn’t _fair._ He would never blame his friends for choosing different colleges (Donghyuck didn’t stay close to home either) but it still _sucks_ that their paths are forked, dividing without much of a choice or say in the matter.

But Donghyuck is grown now. He should be able to deal with something as insignificant as goodbyes and a little distance. (Two states between him and Jeno, and 500 miles and counting between him and Renjun).

So he crashes into Renjun’s wide-open arms and buries his face in his neck because he wants to take advantage of every grain of sand trickling down the confines of their hourglass, counting down the dwindling time they have left together. Not even a few seconds later, another pair of arms wrap around the both of them and Donghyuck hears a muffled, “ _Ow_ ,” from Renjun.

“Sorry,” Jeno apologizes, smiling in that beautiful way of his. “Didn’t see you there.”

And Donghyuck really does start crying again, tears trickling down his cheeks as he tightens the grip he has around Renjun’s waist and now Jeno, digging his face deeper into Renjun’s neck to conceal himself. No fluorescent lighting to crack him wide open, but it doesn’t matter. Donghyuck has already laid himself bare for both Renjun and Jeno in this empty parking lot.

“Ah,” Renjun sighs, but it is not out of annoyance or exhaustion. “What are we going to do with you, Donghyuck?” 

Someone ruffles his hair gently, the gesture careful and followed by a quiet, rumbling laugh that Donghyuck immediately recognizes as Jeno. Donghyuck sniffles, unsure of how to respond to Renjun’s question.

 _Stay by my side,_ he thinks. _That’s all I want you guys to do._ But he doesn’t dare to say it out loud, too scared of the implications it carries. So he swallows the words, decides to let them stick to the walls of his throat and desperately tries to think about anything else. Like how warm he feels with the two of them by his side, or the way he can smell Jeno’s cologne or the paints Renjun works with, even in his free time.

Neither Jeno or Renjun say anything else, and it is just them in the empty parking lot, swaying from side to side in each other’s arms with the promise that they’re going to see each other again underneath the yellow lighting of the street lamps surrounding them.

It is just them, holding each other in the quiet of the cold winter night. Fingers and arms connect their bodies together the way threads connect pins on a map, the same threads that keep them together despite the distance trying to drive a wedge between them.

—

The sunset paints the sky with streaks of orange and light pinks, and Donghyuck laments over the way summer’s slipping through his fingertips. Ratty-toed sneakers touch his, and he looks away from the line where the sea and sky meet in favor of meeting Jeno’s eyes.

“You’re brooding,” Jeno says, pointing his cherry red popsicle at him. Donghyuck tries not to stare at his lips and how they seem a brighter shade of red because of it, tries to focus on the bleeding sunset mirroring his heart instead.

Donghyuck shrugs weakly. “We leave for college in less than a week. I think I’m allowed to mope a little bit.”

They’re balancing on the concrete wall that separates the parking lot from the beach, eating popsicles in favor of paying attention to their now abandoned skateboards. Renjun left earlier to go finish packing, a painful reminder of what’s to come. Donghyuck has to do the same, but he keeps delaying it.

“You are,” Jeno agrees. “But college is supposed to be fun, right? So it’s okay to be a little bit excited.”

Donghyuck frowns, but doesn’t say anything else. His popsicle is melting.

“Besides,” Jeno says, knocking their shoulders together lightly, “We’re all gonna be okay. If we can survive 4 years of high school, this is nothing.”

Donghyuck gives Jeno a sidelong glance, disbelieving. To him, it’s 2012 all over again and his world is ending according to every single person on the internet. To Jeno, it’s the start of something new, a breath of fresh air and a whole new world for him to explore. It’s a summer sunrise and the feeling of buying new school supplies. It’s opening the first page of a newly-bought notebook and writing between the crisp blue lines.

So maybe Donghyuck _is_ brooding. That’s okay. He’ll get over it.

Jeno bumps the tips of his sneakers against Donghyuck’s own shoes. “We’re gonna be okay.”

And Donghyuck? Donghyuck has no choice but to believe him. 

—

With summer comes the unforgiving California heat and a restlessness Donghyuck doesn’t know how to stifle.

The drive back home is exceedingly long, and Donghyuck zones out for most of it, not remembering what city he’s just driven through or when he changed lanes into the left one. Summer does that to him, the heat making him lazy and forgetful despite the loud blast of the A.C. unit in his car. 

All thoughts of summer and the unrelenting heat he dreads fly out his mind when he pulls up to the sidewalk in front of Renjun’s house. He figures his parents won’t mind if he shows a little late this time because Jeno’s already there and they’re both lounging on the porch swing, holding a tray of watermelon slices and swinging back and forth slightly.

Donghyuck steps out of his car with a bounce in his steps, keys jingling in his hands as he shouts, “Guess who’s back!” with as much excitement as he can muster. It turns out to be worth it, because Renjun slides out of the swing and bounces down the steps to pull him into a hug, smelling of watermelon and the array of chemicals found in sunscreen but Donghyuck is so _happy_ that he barely even notices the disparity.

He spots Jeno following not far behind, almost lingering as he looks at the two of them. Donghyuck wordlessly holds out one of his arms to invite Jeno to join them, and all of a sudden they’re tearing up on the cracked sidewalk of Jeno’s childhood home.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Donghyuck mumbles. “I really missed you guys.” It seems that he never grows tired of saying that when it comes to them.

Jeno laughs at that, and his voice is teasing when he says, “When _don’t_ you miss us?”

Donghyuck swats him away, grumbling unhappily about his teasing.

“Kidding, kidding,” Jeno laughs, scrambling away from him. “You know we miss you too.”

Donghyuck stops to beam at him, content with his response. And then they’re untangling themselves from each other, striding up the sidewalk and onto the porch. Renjun and Jeno sit back down onto the swing, and Donghyuck hesitates, staring around the empty space. Renjun pats it, inviting him to join them.

He does, wordlessly accepting a slice of watermelon and leaning back onto the cushion. His keys click together from the pocket of his shorts, but he doesn’t bother to move them.

“When did you get back?” Donghyuck asks through a mouthful of watermelon. Juice trickles down his chin, and Renjun makes a face.

“Gross,” He says, but Jeno leans across him to wipe the juice from his chin. Donghyuck shivers involuntarily from the contact, but smiles at Jeno regardless. 

_He’s straight,_ he reminds himself. Jeno’s straight and these touches mean nothing. And Renjun? Renjun’s ambiguous.

“I flew back into town last night,” Jeno answers, now smiling back at him as he wipes the back of his hand on his shorts. “Renjun’s been back for a few days though.”

Renjun nods in confirmation. “My finals were spread out earlier this quarter, so I drove back down as soon as they finished.”

Donghyuck nods as they both talk, that same feeling thrumming through his body from a few months back, before the seasons changed.

It’s good to be back.

—

The fan in Jeno’s room does little to dissipate the heat in the air.

“You know,” Donghyuck begins, staring up at the ceiling from where he’s laying on the bed, “We could try going to the beach or something.”

Jeno frowns from the floor. “It’s too hot to move.”

Renjun mumbles in agreement. Donghyuck sighs, giving it up easily enough. There’s no convincing them. Laziness has bound them to the confines of Jeno’s room, and Donghyuck has fallen victim as well.

“I can go see if we have ice cream though,” Jeno offers, and Donghyuck shoots up out of excitement, the heavy feeling of laziness forgotten. Ice cream reminds him of past summers, when they didn’t have licenses and had to beg Jeno’s older brother to take them to the store or the local ice cream shop.

Content seeps through Donghyuck’s body like syrup as they all barrel down the stairs and into the tiled kitchen. Donghyuck lays on the ground like he’s about to make a snow angel and feels coolness join the contentedness in his body, mixing with the sickly sweet river and freezing it.

Renjun laughs at him from the countertop, and Jeno says something about his mom yelling at them if she comes back and sees what they’re up to, that college hasn’t taught them any more manners than high school did. But the heat is stifling and Donghyuck wants to enjoy the tiled floor before it grows warm from his own body heat, so he forgoes any warnings and succumbs to the brief reprieve.

That is, until Jeno pops his head out of the freezer to announce that they have mint chocolate chip ice cream and he’s scrambling back up to grab it. After a brief negotiation, they sit in a lopsided circle on the tiles and spoon bites of ice cream straight out of the tub, leaning back against the cabinets for support.

“We’re so stupid,” Renjun says through a mouthful of ice cream. “We literally live like an hour from the beach if we drive. My house has a _pool,_ and we’re doing this instead.”

Jeno shrugs. “It reminds me of previous summers.”

(Donghyuck agrees; it’s something about the lazy atmosphere and low droning of the fan, spinning in circles and cooling the sweat on their skin).

Apparently that’s enough for Renjun to drop it because they’re all clinging to the past, in one way or another.

—

Renjun stands on his porch with a box of hair dye and a gleam in his eyes.

As soon as Donghyuck opens the door, he barrels past him, shouting, “Jeno’s on his way to help!”

Disoriented, Donghyuck mumbles, “Help with what?” under his breath as he closes the door, shutting out the rays of heat from the sun beating against the pavement. Heading out of the living room and up his stairs, he finds Renjun sitting in the mirror in front of his bed with a quizzical expression on his face. Ignoring the emptiness of his room that comes with packing for college, Donghyuck sits next to Renjun.

“Jeno said I’d look good with purple, but I don’t know if I believe him,” Renjun says, brushing a hand through his hair. He looks up at Donghyuck expectantly, waving a box of hair dye.

Donghyuck frowns. _Purple? Renjun’s never dyed his hair before._

 _Change,_ he thinks. It’s seeping through his fingertips and he cannot stop it. Before he can answer him, another knock reverberates through the house and Donghyuck’s shouts, “Come in!” 

It doesn’t matter if Jeno can hear him or not. He’ll come in either way. True to his word, Donghyuck hears the sound of a door opening not even a moment later and footsteps creaking against the floorboard.

“We’re in Donghyuck’s room!” Renjun yells, still staring at the box of hair dye in his hands. Donghyuck thinks purple is perfect for him but he’s uneasy about how much they’re all changing, so he waits for Jeno to come instead.

Jeno pokes his head through the door, grinning. “Did you pick a color yet?”

Renjun waves the box of hair dye yet again, and Donghyuck folds his legs up to his chest to let Jeno squeeze past, trying not to feel perturbed by the changes taking place.

“Oh! You ended up choosing purple.” Jeno’s eyes are bright and he’s still smiling as he drops his bag onto the floor.

“It’s pretty,” Donghyuck finally says, and it’s true. Renjun’s features are delicate and perfect for the lavender color he’s chosen.

Renjun beams at the two of them through the mirror, and then Jeno unzips his bag. Out comes the bleach and brushes. Donghyuck has to find a bowl to put it all in, and he prays his parents don’t kill him for it.

So they sit in front of the mirror for almost an hour, trying to bleach Renjun’s impossibly dark hair. Then there’s another hour of waiting, so they go down to the kitchen in search of popsicles, Renjun with a plastic bag covering his hair and Jeno fussing over it every once in a while.

Renjun swats his hands at him eventually, telling him to stop worrying about it. And so Jeno relents, the atmosphere in the kitchen settling into the dust and returning to one like any other summer day.

Jeno’s lips are stained blue from the popsicle and Donghyuck can’t help but smile a little at the sight.

But eventually Renjun’s hair is light enough for Jeno to apply the purple hair dye, so they trudge back upstairs with sun-tired limbs and into the heavy heat settled in Donghyuck’s room to finish what they started earlier.

(They were right. Purple _does_ suit Renjun, and Donghyuck can’t help but reach out to run his fingers through the strands after he’s showered and dried it, thinking about how pretty he looks.

Renjun gives him a curious glance, surprised by the gesture, but doesn’t push him away, eyes fluttering shut from content).

—

When it cools down, they sit on the sidewalk outside of Jeno’s house, tips of their sneakers tapping against each other's. Just like the old days.

But so much has changed since then. Jeno’s tanner and his hair is no longer bleached white, but a soft brown instead that makes his appearance look far more gentle than it did when they were in high school. Renjun has paint smeared across his cheek, reminiscent of his younger self, but there are also bags underneath his eyes that weren’t there before. He’s long since had his own coming out, the one that gave Donghyuck a sliver of hope. The purple of his hair has long since changed back to his regular light brown, and Donghyuck almost misses it.

It’s funny how time changes people. Donghyuck isn’t sure how he’s changed, but he knows there’s no way he _hasn’t._ Time leaves a mark on everyone but Donghyuck’s cheeks are just as chubby as they were when they all left for college (Some baby fat is simply too stubborn to melt away with time) and he, unsurprisingly enough, still wears his black-faded-to-grey converse every chance he gets, so he’s unsure of where he stands on the spectrum of change.

The pavement is still warm to the touch despite the sun having set already, but Donghyuck leans his hands against it anyways, trying to steady himself.

“I feel like we’re back in high school,” Jeno says, interrupting the budding silence between them. Their shoulders brush as they shift and adjust against the concrete, and Donghyuck tries his hardest not to think about it. Every touch and point of contact between them raises a storm of butterflies within him.

From his other side, Renjun agrees. “We used to do this a lot back then.”

 _Back then._ Donghyuck is reminded of how much they’ve all grown since those days. 

“Do you remember when we were sitting outside and Donghyuck was convinced he knew the guy walking down the street?” Renjun questions, and Jeno laughs in the sort of way where it echoes across the street, bouncing off of the gravel and pavement.

Donghyuck’s cheeks burn red at the reminder, but he says, “I could’ve _sworn_ it was a kid that I used to babysit.”

Jeno’s laughter only multiplies, spreading over to Renjun now too.

“God,” Jeno says through too-loud fits of laughter. “That was so embarrassing.”

“All I did was ask him! You guys were more embarrassed than I was, and _I’m_ the one who did all the talking,” Donghyuck argues. He pulls his knees up to his chest, resting his elbows on them.

Renjun shakes his head, laughter slowly subsiding into silence yet again. 

It feels good to sit here and swap memories of each other. Sort of like a push back to the universe for working against them.

—

Donghyuck first meets Na Jaemin at the corner store, where he buys a pack of batteries and a box of popsicles. His face burns red at the combination, and he’s hoping the cute boy with a nice smile behind the cash register doesn’t say anything.

The pack of popsicles and batteries slide down towards the cashier, and Donghyuck’s beginning to think he won’t say anything when he picks up the pack of batteries with a look of amusement on his face.

“I’ve heard these pair well with our popsicles,” He deadpans, and Donghyuck bursts into nervous laughter, trying to think about anything but the embarrassment flooding his entire body.

“That’s nice to know,” Donghyuck responds, trying to smile. He’s also looking everywhere _but_ the boy in front of him, eyes flickering to the fluorescence of the neon lights on the wall and towards the _ding_ of the door when someone else walks in. The boy smiles at them too, and Donghyuck sighs inwardly.

It’s a quiet affair. Donghyuck pays in cash and almost cries when he says, “You too,” in response to the boy’s kind, “Enjoy your popsicles!” as he’s leaving the corner store.

He doesn’t go back after that. Not even when Jeno and Renjun insist on buying candy and drinks after school, the way they usually do. Instead Donghyuck sits on the curb outside and waits for them to finish, wishing he wasn’t so new to _this._

 _This_ being boys and everything that comes with them. Conversations are okay if they’re school-related or Donghyuck knows them well enough to feel comfortable. The cute boy at the corner store is an enigma and that scares Donghyuck.

Someone nudges his shoulder, and he loses his train of thought.

“He wasn’t inside today,” Jeno says, handing him a popsicle. Donghyuck grabs it with one hand and fishes for change in his pocket with the other. Jeno shakes his head, and the door to the convenience store lets out a _ding_ as Renjun walks out as well.

“You guys don’t even know what he looks like,” Donghyuck grumbles, ripping open the popsicle pack. Jeno sits on the curb next to him, and Renjun holds out his hand. Donghyuck hands him the wrapper so he can throw it away, and it’s not long before they’re all sitting on the curb together.

“I can’t believe Donghyuck has a crush on a boy whose name he doesn’t even know,” Renjun quips, and Donghyuck leans over Jeno to swat at his shoulder.

“It is _not_ a crush!” He argues hotly. He opens his mouth to continue defending his pride, but Jeno nudges his shoulder before he can, and he stops, confused.

Jeno mouths something Donghyuck doesn’t understand. It doesn’t click until he notices someone walking up to the corner store, a school bag slung over his shoulder and a familiar smile on his face. Donghyuck lets out an embarrassing squeak, turning towards his friends and gesturing for them to stand.

“Guys,” He says, a little too frantically. “Let’s _go._ ”

Jeno has a shit-eating grin on his face. “Actually, I think I’m okay with staying here.”

Donghyuck stands abruptly, back turned towards the boy approaching them.

He’s about to make a desperate plea for his pride when he hears a voice behind him says, “Hey. You’re the guy who came in the other night, right?”

Renjun stifles a giggle behind the palm of his hand, and Jeno lets out a snort. Donghyuck makes a point of glaring at them before he turns around, mustering up a sheepish smile.

“Yeah,” He responds. “If you’re thinking of the guy who bought batteries and ice cream.”

The boy smiles at him, and Donghyuck _knows_. This isn’t just a one-time thing. It’s where the story of Donghyuck and Jaemin begins.

—

Donghyuck sticks his hand out the cranked-open window, and marvels at how the wind feels against his skin. Next to him, Jeno turns up whatever pop song is playing on the radio and Renjun sings along without much hesitation, his voice floating through the car and out with the wind.

 _Happy,_ Donghyuck thinks. That’s how he’s feeling right now. 

Jeno’s fingers tap against the steering wheel as they drive, and he keeps his eyes glued onto the road in front of them.

Renjun’s voice quiets down as the song changes, and Jeno’s rolling the car to a stop from traffic when Renjun asks, “So I’m guessing there’s no air conditioner?”

Jeno laughs, eyes flickering to the rear view mirror. “Your best shot is cranking open the window.”

And so they sit in traffic with all four windows open, Jeno leaning an elbow against the smooth slant of glass from the window and Renjun fanning his face furiously. 

“You know where it’s never this hot?” Renjun asks, breaking the silence, and Donghyuck turns in his seat to look at him.

“L.A.?” He guesses even though it’s not true, and he can _feel_ Jeno staring at him. Trying his hardest not to think about it, he turns back in his seat, facing the front again.

Renjun leans forward, elbows on his knees as he flat out lies and says, “Exactly.”

Then, “You guys should drive down next summer. I think you’d like it.”

Jeno casts Renjun a disbelieving glance through the rear view mirror. “You think she can make it that far?”

“ _She_?” Donghyuck splutters, surprised. 

“The car,” Renjun clarifies, almost like he knows, and Donghyuck relaxes as soon as it clicks. 

Jeno laughs, fingers drumming against the steering wheel yet again. What Donghyuck wouldn’t give to hear that laugh more often, or to have Renjun smile over at him.

What he wouldn’t give to be by their sides more often, like he is right now.

—

California beaches are unforgivingly cold. 

It’s a nice reprieve from the never ending heat, and Donghyuck stands in ankle deep water as Jeno runs _towards_ the waves, Renjun close behind. It’s followed by a shriek, and then a shout of disdain as the ocean crashes over their heads.

Donghyuck grins from where he’s standing, and then immediately bounces away when he notices strands of kelp drifting towards him. When he looks up, Jeno’s wading through the water, t-shirt sticking to skin and Donghyuck seriously cannot be looking but Renjun is nowhere to be found, which leaves him with little to no choice.

And then Jeno starts running. Donghyuck shrieks immediately, backing up out of the water and towards the comfort of the sand.

“Jeno, hey, _Jeno,“_ He pleads, holding his hands out in front of him. “When have I ever wronged you? Jeno, you know I love you, right?”

He doesn’t make it very far, Jeno catching up to him because he’s stupidly athletic and wrapping two arms around Donghyuck’s waist. He yells all the while, trying to squirm his way out of Jeno’s grip.

Once they get dangerously close to the shore, Donghyuck stops struggling, knowing there’s no point. Instead, he wraps his arms around Jeno’s neck as tightly as he can and smiles at him.

“If I go down, you’re going with me,” Donghyuck says, still smiling, even when Jeno drops him.

The first sensation he comes across is the taste of saltwater filling his mouth and nose, burning the inside of them. His eyes squeeze shut a moment too late, something he’ll regret when the day is over. Reflexively, he kicks back up to the surface of the shallow water, spluttering and rubbing his eyes.

“ _Jeno_ ,” He whines half-heartedly, still tasting salt. “Do you know how long it took me to get ready? Not all of us are lucky enough to be born pretty.”

 _Like you,_ he thinks, but he leaves it unspoken.

From his left, he hears, “You must’ve been one of the lucky ones, then.”

Donghyuck wipes his eyes furiously, trying to lessen the burn of saltwater. 

“One of the lucky ones, my _ass,_ Lee Jeno,” He bites back, and he closes his eyes again, waiting for the pain to lessen. From the shore, he hears Renjun asking if he wants a towel.

Cautiously, he blinks open one eye and finds Jeno wading towards him. Blinking open the other eye, he points blindly towards Renjun.

“See? Renjun always has my back,” Donghyuck says smugly, already trudging out of the water. Jeno laughs, but follows after him regardless.

Donghyuck grimaces at the feeling of sand sticking to his feet, but he accepts the towel Renjun hands him without much hesitation, pressing it to his face. The material chafes against his skin, surely making it more red than it already is.

“Jeno is so mean,” Donghyuck complains, but his voice comes out muffled from the towel. 

“Was it something I did?” Jeno’s voice is teasing and Donghyuck’s anger melts within seconds, giving way to the hidden affection he’s been harboring inside of him.

“Don’t encourage him,” Renjun scolds, and Donghyuck feels a comforting hand brush through his damp hair not even a second later. Donghyuck pulls the towel from his face, deeming himself presentable enough, and visibly relaxes from the contact.

“Renjun,” Donghyuck finally says. “You’d never do that to me, right?”

Renjun laughs, withdrawing his hand. “It was my idea, actually.”

Betrayal distorts Donghyuck’s features. “ _Your_ idea?”

Jeno’s laughter mixes in with Renjun’s, and the betrayal dissolves within seconds. 

“Aw, c’mon Donghyuck. We’re at the beach for a reason,” Renjun laughs, and he wraps his arms around Donghyuck’s middle, pulling him closer with dangerous intentions. “You didn’t think we’d just let you stand on shore the entire time, did you?”

Jeno starts moving closer as well, hammering in the final nail on Donghyuck’s coffin without him even realizing.

(He makes sure to keep his eyes closed and nose plugged this time, vowing to get both of them back all the meanwhile).

—

Change has been on Donghyuck’s mind a lot lately, with the ticker to his childhood counting down and summer fading the way paint does with time and too much sunlight.

It’s on his mind when he steps into the yellow walls of his bedroom and drinks in the emptiness and packed boxes, filled with the remains of his life here. It’s on his mind when he goes into town and he sees old classmates, and all of a sudden greetings are, “So where did you commit?” and “When do you leave?” instead of what they were before. It’s on his mind when his mother asks him how he wants to get to his college campus up north, if he wants them all to accompany him.

(He says no, because he knows he’ll never let them leave if they do).

It’s on his mind when Renjun invites him and Jeno over one last time, when the sky is a light purple and the moon is slowly replacing the sun in the sky, burning brightly and without restraint. It’s on his mind when he finds Renjun in the backyard with a pack of beer and a small smile on his face as he explains that he managed to smuggle some into the house.

Donghyuck doesn’t ask any questions, just sits in one of the deck chairs and gestures for Renjun to hand him one of the cans. 

“Jeno’s on his way,” Renjun says, leaning across the table to hand him a can. The _pop-hiss_ of it opening is both familiar and uncharted territory. Donghyuck accepts it wordlessly, settling back into the chair.

Behind him, he hears the sound of the sliding door opening and a pair of shoes plopping to the ground with a loud slap—none of them wear shoes in the house, so they carry them to the backyard.

“Is that what I think it is?” Jeno laughs, and Donghyuck twists in his chair, greedy for a glimpse of him.

That’s the thing about Lee Jeno. Maybe he isn’t _conventionally_ beautiful to other people, but Donghyuck likes the way his nose slopes and how pink his lips are. How stark-white his hair is in comparison to his skin, an after effect of spending so many days in the sun. Jeno soaks up sunlight generously, and Donghyuck thinks he’s beautiful.

He thinks Renjun is beautiful too, but in a different way. Where Jeno is sharp, sloping planes and strong features, Renjun is delicate. Not so much in terms of personality, but delicate in that he’s soft around the edges, like the petals of a flower. 

Donghyuck looks away eventually, focusing back on the beer in his hand. The first sip is always the most bitter, so he chokes it down and hopes the buzzed feeling kicks in fast enough for him to forget the taste.

Renjun and Jeno are speaking. Donghyuck tunes back in to hear Renjun say, “Are you leaving in the morning too?”

There it is. Change. Donghyuck can’t hide from it, no matter how much he wants to. He takes another sip of beer, and wishes they would talk about anything else. Wishes they could ignore the approach of fall and the beginning of classes, that they could rewind back to the start of summer, when they would eat popsicles on the floor of Donghyuck’s room and talk about all the exciting things they wanted to accomplish before they left for college.

Jeno’s reply is fuzzy to his ears. “Super early too. We have a long drive up to Seattle.”

Donghyuck wants to laugh. They’re scattering off to different places and he doesn’t know what or who to hang onto. If there’s even any _point_ in doing that.

“What about you, Donghyuck? Maybe we can all meet up one last time to see each other off,” Renjun says, and he forces himself to snap out of it.

 _One last time,_ he thinks. Like they’re never going to see each other again. The thought is daunting. He’s too used to daily lunch breaks and summer sleepovers where they sleep too long and Jeno snores too loudly and Renjun wakes with cold hands despite the heat.

“I’m leaving a bit later. I can stop by and say bye to you guys,” Donghyuck answers, the words heavy and miserable to his ears.

“So Jeno’s place it is?” Renjun looks across the table for confirmation. Donghyuck pretends to be focused on bending back the cap of his can. He yanks on it a little too hard and the shard of metal flies off, bouncing onto the table.

No one comments on it, even when his cheeks flare up from embarrassment.

Finally, “We can meet at my house. If you guys can wake up early, that is. We’re leaving around five.”

 _Six,_ Donghyuck thinks. Less than twelve hours until the remnants of his childhood start fading away, sprinkling into the wind like wisps of used paper.

“We’ll be there,” Donghyuck promises, both for himself and Renjun. “I’ll wake Renjun if I have to.”

Jeno takes a sip from his beer, and leans back in his chair, raising an eyebrow as he says, “Or you guys could just sleepover.”

Donghyuck almost drops his can at the thought of them spending their last night together, surprised.

Renjun hums. “I like that.”

Two sets of expectant eyes look over at him, waiting. Donghyuck swallows another sip of beer, nodding. “We can do that.”

And just like that, they’re falling back into their old routine. Old routine if Donghyuck ignores the shared cans of beer and the impending sense of anxiety and fear that comes with growing up.

Around them, the sky is fading into pitch black. Time slips through their fingertips carelessly, shrinking and disappearing before Donghyuck can even figure out what to say to his best friends.

—

The fan in Jeno’s room doesn’t do much for the heat. Renjun tugs open the window, the blinds partially turned downwards to prevent mosquitoes from flying in and to filter out the moonlight.

“It’s so fucking hot,” Renjun complains, flopping back down onto Jeno’s bed. They’re all crowded around it, legs crossed like they’re in kindergarten again and sitting in a triangle, because it takes more than three of them to create a well-rounded circle.

Donghyuck shrugs at his misery. “It’s _always_ hot in the summer.”

Renjun looks over at him with disdain, but all Donghyuck can think about is how light his hair looks despite the sparse lighting, how his features look soft, like they’ve been dulled around the edges. (In a good way).

Donghyuck looks away.

They’re quiet for a long, uneasy moment. Quiet enough to hear the dim buzzing of mosquitoes outside and the occasional car driving by, its wheels crunching on the asphalt. Crickets join the world of sound outside, and Donghyuck shivers.

Then, “I can’t believe we’re really leaving.” Renjun’s voice is soft and surprisingly small in the confines of Jeno’s room.

Donghyuck closes his eyes shut, not trusting himself to speak. He never really gave growing up much consideration. Not until it smacked him right in the face.

“Neither can I.” Jeno’s voice is equal parts wonder and sadness. None of them want to leave, but they’re all itching for a taste of _real_ life.

Or what they _think_ is real life. Donghyuck doesn’t know anymore, can’t find the line where dreams end and reality begins.

“We’re gonna stay in touch, right?” When Donghyuck speaks, his voice is shaking and it garners the attention of both Jeno and Renjun.

Renjun is the first to move, reaching out for Donghyuck’s hand, something none of them have done since they were _kids._ It makes Donghyuck feel small and _young_ again, like they’re about to run out to the playground a block from Jeno’s house and obsessively go down the same slide over and over again.

But, no. They’re all grown up now and with that comes college. With that comes distance and new friends and classes and _change._ Most importantly, with that comes adulthood.

Renjun’s hand feels solid. Like it could ground Donghyuck here, within the blankets of Jeno’s childhood bed and the blue walls of his bedroom for the rest of time.

“Hey,” Renjun says, softly. “Of course. Texts and calls and FaceTime will be our common ground.”

Across from him, Jeno nods. “It’s just college. We’ve dealt with worse.”

(By worse he means their friend group drifting apart, budding off and joining other groups. He means bad grades and bad mental health days and all the shitty things people deal with in high school).

Donghyuck smiles, and it comes easily. Sitting here, he feels reassured, like everything’s going to work out. And then Jeno places his hand on top of Renjun and Donghyuck’s entwined ones, smiling warmly.

(Everything about Jeno is warm—his careful touches and his smiles. His eyes and the lines that carve the palms of his hands. Warm and unforgettable).

Donghyuck can almost hear everything fall into place with a _click_.

—

Goodbyes are hollow and aching. 

Donghyuck rubs sleep from his eyes when Jeno’s alarm goes off and then rolls over to wake his friends with a lump in his throat.

What follows is a cascade effect; Jeno blinks the sleep away and then so does Renjun. Donghyuck throws back the covers, standing on shaking legs and the remnants of his childhood. Jeno and Renjun quietly follow.

Jeno’s mother checks in on them, smiling sadly when she notices the glum expressions on their faces. But she’s gone as fast as she came, surely preparing for the trip ahead. She’s sending her son away, after all. 

When Jeno stifles a yawn, Donghyuck tells him, “Try to sleep on the drive up there, yeah?”

Jeno smiles at him, and Donghyuck wonders when he’s going to see that smile next, if it’ll be any different or if they’ll drift apart like ships on the ocean or if they’ll just be strangers who run into each other in the grocery store during breaks.

Time flies when there are goodbyes to be said. The next thing Donghyuck knows he’s standing on the concrete of Jeno’s driveway and looking into the filled trunk of moving boxes.

Renjun leans his head on Donghyuck’s shoulder, lazy and sleepy. Next to them, Jeno takes a long, deep breath.

“I guess this is it,” He says quietly, and everything Donghyuck had wanted to stay lodges itself in his throat. _I love you, please don’t drift apart from me because we’re growing up. I know it happens sometimes and that we can’t help it, but I don’t want that to happen to us. But I also want you to have fun and learn what it really means to live, I want to hear all about it when winter break comes around._

Donghyuck doesn’t say any of it. It is all too selfish and too open, too scary and vulnerable.

Instead he says, “Text us when you get there.”

Jeno laughs a little. “Yeah. I will.”

Renjun is the first to move, rushing forward into Jeno’s arms, and oh, he’s _crying_. But Renjun doesn’t cry. 

Jeno seems startled by it as well, and he hesitantly brings his hand to rub his back comfortingly, hooking his chin over Renjun’s shoulders. His usually-dark eyes are glassy and unfocused, but he gestures for Donghyuck to come.

Donghyuck is hollow and empty but he hugs them anyways. He hugs his best friends and mourns the slow end of his teenage years and all the summers they’ve spent together. Mourns all the unspoken words ( _Jeno_ _I love you but I don’t know if you love me and I don’t know if Renjun does either, so I’ll settle for being the friend you always drift back to when it’s break and we all pretend like we’re home for good_ ) and the scores of memories they share.

It feels like a loss, like a chunk of his universe is about to be taken away. Donghyuck also feels like he’s losing them, but he’s still 18 and a tad bit dramatic at this point. But it’s okay, melodrama is his closest companion and he thinks it’s justified right now.

He doesn’t know how long they all stand there, in the dusk of the morning with their arms wrapped around each other. It doesn’t feel long enough.

—

Back to fluorescent lighting. Donghyuck thinks they’re all clinging to the past. When he slides into the plastic chairs of the bubble tea place, Renjun asks, “Remember how we’d come here on Fridays when we were in high school?”

The ease into conversation is smooth, as always. The lights above them flicker but Donghyuck pays them no mind, smiling.

“Yeah. It was our thing, wasn’t it?” A question for a question. Donghyuck is achingly happy to be here. The only thing that’s missing is Jeno, but he’ll be here soon and then they’ll be _complete._ Whole.

“I don’t even remember how it started,” Renjun confesses. Donghyuck does, but he doesn’t say anything because who remembers something so insignificant? Maybe not insignificant to him, but he doesn’t see a point in sharing, so he tucks the memory within the folds and curves of his mind instead, keeping it for himself.

“Me neither,” Donghyuck says. (It started with Mark, who introduced them all to this place, before their friend group split apart the way most do).

His phone buzzes against the tabletop, distracting him from Renjun. _Jeno,_ he thinks.

He peers over at his phone to read the message flashing across the screen, before smiling up at Renjun. 

“Jeno’s here,” He announces, and it’s almost as if his universe settles into place with those two words. Everything feels far more approachable and within reach when the three of them are together.

Jeno comes in through the door soon enough, all smiles and faded yellow t-shirt to match the sunlight he carries within himself. He slides into the seat next to Donghyuck without hesitating, slinging an arm around his shoulders and pulling him closer.

“Long time no see,” Jeno teases, and Renjun smiles at the two of them from across the table. Donghyuck’s head feels fuzzy, like how it did when he chugged too much champagne behind his parents backs and he thinks he’s dreaming from the airy, light feeling taking over him. Being around them does that to him.

“Can’t even remember the last time I saw you.” Donghyuck’s mouth feels full of cotton, and he doesn’t dare look Jeno in the eye for too long, scared that he’ll read right through him. Jeno’s good at that, at seeing through facades and covers that people put up.

Jeno laughs in response, and Donghyuck swears his stomach twists in on itself out of happiness. Looking away doesn’t do much, because he finds himself meeting Renjun’s eyes instead, and the same feeling increases by tenfold, spreading throughout his entire body and leaving a semi-permanent smile on his face.

After a few seconds, Jeno drops his arm from Donghyuck’s shoulders, standing back up. “Do you guys want anything?”

Donghyuck holds up his smoothie in response, whereas Renjun requests egg puffs with the promise that he’ll eventually pay Jeno back. Jeno waves his hand dismissively, insisting that there’s no need to.

Renjun sighs, shaking his head. “This happens every single time.”

Donghyuck fiddles with the too-big straw of his drink, laughing a little as he points out, “You know, you can fix that by just _buying_ some for yourself before he comes.”

Renjun shrugs, and Donghyuck laughs a little harder. He’s too happy to be around them again, but if Renjun notices, he doesn’t say anything.

—

The story of Donghyuck and Jaemin isn’t anything special. 

It’s one filled with fluorescent lighting of the garish green neon outside the corner store and him sitting on the curb with the first boy he’s genuinely had a crush on ever since he came to terms with his sexuality. They dance around each other for ages—Donghyuck turns it into a game, trying to see if he can come up with the weirdest possible assortment of things to buy each time he comes in—but neither of them seem to care.

(Jaemin makes a game out of it too, creating whirlwind after whirlwind of stories to explain Donghyuck’s armful of items).

It goes like this. 

Donghyuck tries to visit Jaemin as discreetly as possible, using his friends as an excuse to stop by the corner store where he works. They search for sour candy and soda while he leans against the sharp edges of the counter, the one Jaemin stands behind, and makes conversation with him.

His friends are loud behind him, arguing about which candy to buy, who's paying for what, but Donghyuck never once notices. Jaemin has an inexplicably bright smile, the kind that reaches his eyes and softens the features of his face.

So Donghyuck ends up falling in love for the first time in the fluorescent lighting of a corner store, over a boy who goes to the other high school in town and most likely doesn’t even know the depth of Donghyuck’s feelings for him.

But Donghyuck is in high school. Love burns the way a candle does, melting wax and dripping, before burning out almost as fast as it came to life. 

Nothing happens between them, no matter how much his friends coax him to say or do _anything._ Donghyuck is a candle and he’s flickering, losing fire.

Still, whenever he comes home, he has to drive by that same corner store. The neon lights are gone now, replaced by advertisements and clear paned windows. It feels off balance.

But each time he sees it, he thinks of Jaemin, of what could’ve been and what _was._ Maybe he’ll stop by there one day. For old times sake.

—

There’s something otherworldly about wandering around the park in Donghyuck’s neighborhood in the middle of the heat, when the heat is slowly dissipating from the black asphalt and the swings are empty and somewhat eerie.

Renjun and Jeno are on both sides of him, two sides of the same coin, and he finds himself reveling in the feeling of having them nearby. He doesn’t dare reach out for them though, fearing they’ll catch on to the feelings that have been snowballing and building up ever since high school.

So, he’s finally admitted to himself. It only took him two summers of being away from his best friends to realize it, but better sooner than later, right? (He wishes it was later, wishes he never even _realized,_ because he doesn’t know how to detangle himself from this mess).

 _Falling in love is messy,_ Donghyuck thinks as he watches Renjun run to the swings. It is not simple or straightforward, doesn’t come to him the way water falls over the edge of a waterfall. It’s disjointed and clumsy and the opposite of what television and books led him to believe.

Donghyuck’s in love. He’s in love with both Renjun and Jeno and he doesn’t know what to do. But he can’t think about that right now. He can’t afford to, because Jeno’s straight and Renjun’s so far out of reach.

Donghyuck and Jeno reach the swings at the same time, and Donghyuck crouches to place his keys and wallet safely on the ground. 

And then he joins his friends. 

“I feel like a kid again,” Renjun admits, and his smile is clear as day, despite the waxing of the moon and darkness cloaking them. Donghyuck thinks it’s beautiful, the way he manages to shine no matter the circumstances or predicament he’s stuck in.

Donghyuck hums in response, not trusting himself to speak. Where he falls, Jeno rises, filling the dark of the night with lighthearted conversation and the sound of his laughter. It’s comforting. Donghyuck feels at home with the two of them by his side.

But the laughter dies down eventually, leaving the three of them in silence and Donghyuck wondering what to say next as he pumps his legs, trying to swing upwards with ease. Next to him, Renjun and Jeno have given up already, their swings swaying ever so slightly in the faint summer breeze.

So he gives it up too, choosing to sneak glances at the two of them instead. Renjun seems to be at ease, looking up at the night sky. Jeno looks anxious, eyes trained on the ground. Donghyuck’s ready to ask him what’s wrong when he looks back up and towards the two of them.

Donghyuck’s heart constricts, but he waits for Jeno to speak.

“I have to tell you guys something,” Jeno blurts out. It’s loud within the quiet of the night, and Donghyuck immediately digs his heels into the tanbark, trying to slow down enough to look at Jeno.

He looks uneasy, fiddling with his fingers and not meeting his or Renjun’s eyes. Dread bubbles up within Donghyuck’s chest, ice cold and terrifying, and his brain runs through a series of worst-case scenarios, flashing in front of him like fireworks. 

_He doesn’t wanna be friends anymore,_ Donghyuck thinks. _Or I did something wrong. Maybe he caught on to the fact that I have feelings for them._

He shudders. _Them._ He still isn’t used to it.

“You can tell us anything,” Renjun reassures, reaching out to rub Jeno’s back comfortingly, and Donghyuck feels like a kid all over again. He feels like they’re all 8 again and Jeno scraped his knee on the sidewalk, when Renjun knew exactly what to do and Donghyuck just stood there, frozen, as tears slipped down Jeno’s cheeks the way blood trickled down his knee.

Jeno breathes in shakily. Donghyuck can hear it rattling all the way from his swing, and his heart aches. 

“You don’t have to tell us if you aren’t ready,” Renjun reassures softly, and Donghyuck is suddenly 8 years old again, an outsider. Renjun always knows what to do, always keeps them together and is there to offer comfort.

And Donghyuck? Donghyuck laments his shortcomings and wishes he was better, more like Renjun and less like _him._

Jeno’s staring off into the distance, silent. Donghyuck doesn’t know what to say or do. Renjun glances over at him, lines of worry creasing his face before he turns back to Jeno.

“Take your time,” Renjun tells him, as Jeno takes another chest-rattling breath.

Donghyuck sits on the swing, frozen and waiting for words to come to him the way they come to Renjun. But they don’t and instead he watches Renjun squeeze Jeno’s knee and comfort him with soft-spoken words and small smiles that act as gifts.

Donghyuck watches, an outsider at 20 years-old.

—

Later that night, when they’re all in their separate households, he texts Jeno.

_I love you. I hope you’re okay and doing well._

It’s easier when he doesn’t have to look at Jeno and see the pain in his eyes.

—

The next day, he walks to Jeno’s house.

The morning air is crisp and cool, a contrast from the invasive wave of heat they’ve been experiencing ever since they came back for the summer.

Two lefts and a right. Donghyuck has had the path to Jeno’s house memorized for years now, and he walks through the doorway the way he would in his own house. He smells Korean food and hears Jeno laughing from the kitchen, and it’s like he’s home all over again.

He slips his shoes off at the small space between the door and the living room, and hears Jeno yell, “Donghyuck? Is that you?”

Donghyuck smiles, answering with an equally loud, “The one and only!” as he makes his way into the kitchen, where he assumes Jeno is waiting. 

“Did you text me that you were coming?” Jeno asks. He’s perched on the counter as if they haven’t gotten yelled at repeatedly for doing that, swinging his legs childishly.

Donghyuck’s heart flip-flops in his ribcage. “I didn’t. Sorry for just dropping by unannounced.”

Jeno’s mother smiles gently at him, but doesn’t say anything.

“That’s fine! We can have breakfast together and then annoy Renjun while he’s painting.” Jeno is easily excited and Donghyuck watches as he swings his legs even more, before hopping off the countertop to prepare another seat at the table for Donghyuck.

Donghyuck grins. It feels good to be home.

—

True to Jeno’s word, they find Renjun painting in the backyard of his house.

“Have you guys forgotten how to text?” Renjun laughs, not even looking away from the canvas in front of him. Jeno looks over at Donghyuck with that smile on his face, the kind that warms his eyes, and he feels his heartbeat jump to his throat.

They sit down in the patio chairs, peering over at Renjun’s painting, _ooh-ing_ and _ahh-ing_ over it.

Renjun shoos them away eventually, pushing the painting away from himself to let it dry. There’s a streak of blue smeared across his cheek and his hands are a rainbow of colors from hours of painting, but Donghyuck wouldn’t have him any other way. He looks even more beautiful like this, something he wouldn’t dare to admit out loud.

“Did you guys come here for the sole purpose of bothering me, or did you have something in mind?” Renjun asks, neatly storing his paint brushes back into a now-emptied container that used to hold cream cheese. 

Jeno shrugs, but Donghyuck is quick to say, “We just came here to bother you.”

Renjun shakes his head, but he’s smiling as he gathers up his art supplies in his arms, gesturing for them to stand. 

“Let’s go upstairs then. We can rock-paper-scissors a Netflix show to binge,” He suggests, smiling at the two of them.

That’s all it takes. Donghyuck would follow Renjun to the ends of the Earth if he asked.

—

Jeno sits up in the middle of an episode of That 70’s Show, his face oddly serious.

“You know how I wanted to tell you guys something last night?” He asks, and Donghyuck fumbles for the remote to turn down the sound of Kelso frantically trying to find his boss’s cop car.

“Yeah.” His voice sounds hoarse to his own ears. “I remember.”

Renjun turns onto his side, clutching a pillow in his arms and looking up at Jeno concernedly. “Are you sure you’re ready? You don’t have to like, force yourself.”

Jeno shakes his head abruptly. 

“I need to tell you guys,” He says confidently, almost like he’s bracing himself.

“We’re ready when you are,” Donghyuck chokes out, tired of being an outsider and tired of offering comfort too late. Renjun nods in agreement, reaching out for Jeno’s hand.

Hesitantly, Donghyuck does the same. He’s learning. They all are.

Jeno’s face burns red, like he’s embarrassed, but he doesn’t push them away.

“I don’t know where to begin,” He mutters. Donghyuck doesn’t say anything, and neither does Renjun. It’s up to Jeno to start his story, not them.

So they wait, listening to the distant hum of That 70’s Show in the background and the fan droning next to Renjun’s television. They wait because Jeno deserves a little more time and because they wouldn’t dare force him to talk if he wasn’t ready.

When the episode ends, Jeno starts speaking. “You know, like, how you guys always joked about me being the only straight friend in our friend group?”

 _Please don’t tell me that hurt your feelings,_ Donghyuck thinks. _I don’t know how to explain to you that it’s nothing more than a harmless joke._

“Well,” Jeno’s voice is scratchy, “I don’t think that joke applies anymore,” and _oh_ , Donghyuck isn’t going to have to explain straight people jokes to Jeno. Suddenly everything’s changed, but Donghyuck doesn’t mind. Not at all.

Renjun, much to both of their surprises, laughs.

“You’re just now figuring it out?” He asks, and there’s a hint of bewilderment in his voice that suggests he figured it out ages ago.

Donghyuck, however, is shocked.

“Oh,” He squeaks. He can’t manage much else right now.

Jeno gives him an odd look, but focuses his attention back on Renjun. “What do you _mean_ just now? You couldn’t have possibly known.”

Renjun shoots him a disbelieving look, eyes narrowed and face completely serious.

“Don’t think I didn’t notice the way you used to stare at that guy in our Calc class during junior year. What was his name? Something with a J? He was a year above us if I remember correctly,” Renjun teases. Donghyuck thinks his insides are going to fall out of his body. 

_Jeno stares at boys? Boys that were in his Calc class? Boys that Donghyuck didn’t know about?_

“I didn’t think you noticed!” Jeno cries, and he sinks back into the pillows, letting go of their hands in favor of covering his face with his hands as Renjun laughs loudly, giddy from having put him on the spot.

Donghyuck tries to smile.

“Oh my g-od, you should see Donghyuck’s face right now,” Renjun laughs, and Donghyuck tries even harder to smile before Jeno notices.

“You guys are awful,” Jeno groans, the sound muffled from the palms of his hands covering his face.

“If it makes you feel better,” Donghyuck clears his throat, “I had no clue. I spent all of high school and two years of college convinced that you were definitely straight.”

Renjun raises an eyebrow at him from across the bed, all-knowing. (Or so he thinks, because Renjun doesn’t know that he likes them _both_ ).

“Thanks, Donghyuck,” Jeno says, a tinge of sarcasm in his voice. “You’re a real one.”

Donghyuck tries to smile. Again.

Jeno must not notice, so he gives it up soon enough. Instead, Renjun nudges Jeno’s shoulder with his own and asks, “How come you were so scared to tell us?” with a hint of curiosity in his voice. Maybe even a little hurt, but Donghyuck doesn’t think mentioning it would be a good idea right now.

Instead, Donghyuck chimes in with, “It’s not like both of us are gay as well or anything of the sort,” in a calm, teasing voice.

Jeno shrugs, fiddling with his hands the way he does when he gets nervous. There’s an exceedingly long pause before he speaks again.

“It’s just something I’ve struggled with a lot. Nothing against you guys, of course, but I guess I was scared,” Jeno answers. “I convinced myself I was straight for so long that the possibility I wasn’t became terrifying.”

Donghyuck’s heart aches for him the way it always has, but more strongly this time.

“I knew you guys would support me,” Jeno says, and his voice is a lot quieter this time. “I was scared of myself, not you.”

Tears prick at Donghyuck’s eyes, and he finds himself leaning into Jeno, trying to pull him into a hug.

“ _Jeno_ ,” He murmurs, not trusting himself to say more. Jeno laughs a little, the sound vibrating and making his chest shake.

Next to them, Renjun says, “I love you. We’re both so proud of you,” in a rare gesture of affection.

Coming out hasn’t changed since 16 year-old Donghyuck came out. It is still a quiet affair done in the confines of four walls and with no one around to hear.

Donghyuck doesn’t mind. It is not easy to trust people with such a secret and he finds it hard to believe that both Renjun and Jeno have entrusted their secrets to him. To each other. 

—

“You like Jeno.” Renjun has always been a handful, bursting to life with every passing second. Sort of like a miniature tornado, spinning wildly and without restraint. 

Donghyuck thinks he’s gotten swept up into the tornado that makes up Renjun. He’s dizzy, like he’s been spinning wildly and with no direction.

It’s not that Renjun’s _wrong._ Donghyuck does like Jeno. He likes Renjun. He’s stupid and doesn’t know how to control the outpouring of love spilling from his heart. He wants them both, wants to be by their sides and hold their hands and everything that plays through his mind when the clock reads _2:17 am_ and he’s feeling homesick for his friends.

“I, um,” Donghyuck doesn’t know how to speak. Finally, “ _What_?”

Renjun is unfazed. He’s spinning faster, hands waving in excitement and eyes holding a storm behind them. It’s the kind of look he gets when he starts talking about his favorite artist or debates the pro’s and con’s of different art styles. (Donghyuck knows everything there is to know about surrealism and realism and contemporary art because of him).

“I said,” Renjun says, exasperated, “that you like Jeno. You looked like you were reborn when he came out to us.”

Donghyuck spins his thoughts into defense mode. “Yeah, that’s called being _happy_ for my best friend.”

Renjun shakes his head adamantly, and Donghyuck realizes there’s no convincing him anymore. 

“You’ve liked him for a long time,” Renjun insists, and tears start to claw at Donghyuck’s throat in the form of laughter. _Don’t you know? It’s not just him._

“While _he_ stared at what’s-his-name in our Calc class, you stared at him throughout all of high school.” Renjun’s voice grows softer. “Even now, you look at him the exact same way.”

Donghyuck shakes his head. He can’t admit to it, not when he feels the same way about Renjun, when he stares at him the way he stares at Jeno. How could Renjun possibly notice if he only _really_ looks at Donghyuck and Jeno?

Donghyuck frowns. He doesn’t know what to do or say.

Renjun doesn’t even bat an eyelash at his sudden silence, his voice uncharacteristically warm as he says, “You should tell him.”

 _Oh._ This is definitely getting worse with every passing second, the kind of seconds that trickle through the palm of his hand like grains of sand he can’t seem to get ahold of.

“I can’t tell him,” Donghyuck responds, shaking his head. (Renjun doesn’t understand, how could he possibly understand?)

Renjun looks over at him from the bench they’re both seated on, shaking his head.

“You don’t understand, do you?” Renjun asks quietly, and it’s so serious that Donghyuck freezes, unsure of what to do or say. This isn’t them, the seriousness and shifts in tone of voice. Donghyuck and Renjun joke around and _laugh_ and enjoy spending time with each other.

This isn’t _them_.

Donghyuck is too scared to answer Renjun’s question. He’s always been scared of the unknown.

“For what it’s worth, I think you should do it,” Renjun continues, and then he’s standing. Renjun gets up from the bench with practiced ease and smiles gently. He reminds Donghyuck of ripples in the ocean during calm summer days and cups of peppermint mocha in the winter. Neither combination makes sense, but when he looks at Renjun he is reminded of the comforts of the seasons, changing and tilting not so much as to where he loses sight of who Renjun is.

Donghyuck swallows down the love building up in his throat, before it can spill out in front of Renjun.

“Let me know how it goes, yeah?” Donghyuck really does almost cry then, wishing he wasn’t in love with the both of them.

Renjun leaves with a wave and the promise to text him and see how it went with Jeno, even though Donghyuck never actually said he was going to do it.

Despite that, Donghyuck pulls out his phone and types out a quick message.

—

 _Oh god,_ Donghyuck thinks. _Oh god, I shouldn’t have done this._

He’s back at that park again, swinging nervously like they all were the other night and wondering if it’s too late to cancel on Jeno. But when he digs his phone out of the pocket, Jeno’s message flashes across the screen.

Above him, the sky grows darker and he’s beginning to think this might be his worst idea yet. Darkness envelops him from all sides and he almost wishes Jeno would hurry.

Almost.

He’s unbearably nervous, like he’s got an itch he can’t scratch no matter how hard he tries. It spreads through his entire body, cold and unforgiving, leaving him with a racing heart and clammy hands.

“Donghyuck!” Jeno sounds impossibly happy, but it startles him anyways, to the point where his phone slips out of his hands and onto the ground.

His feet skid against the concrete as he tries to stop his momentum, reaching down to pick it back up. Thankfully, there aren’t any cracks spider webbing across the screen. He wipes at it carefully, breathing a sigh of relief.

Except it starts raining. Little by little, until Jeno’s laughing and yelling, “Why didn’t you check the weather?” over the sound of pouring rain. 

Donghyuck shrugs helplessly, wiping at his face to get rid of the water pooling on his eyelashes. Jeno stands across from him, smiling.

It’s a summer storm. The rain isn’t uncomfortably cold like it usually is, and traces of sunlight poke out from behind the clouds, chasing away the goosebumps threatening to form on his bare arms.

So here they stand, rain-soaked and smiling. Donghyuck thinks it’s akin to something out of a movie, but when Jeno flings his denim jacket up over his head as a flimsy shield and steps closer to Donghyuck in an effort to protect him from the downpour, his brain fizzles.

Everything he had wanted to do or said fades out of existence, his mind tunneling to Jeno and Jeno only. Jeno, and the way he stands in front of him, soaked to the bone but still smiling. Donghyuck wishes he had the courage to brush the hair out of his eyes, to touch him.

“What did you want to talk about?” Jeno drowns out the downpour with ease, but maybe Donghyuck is just in love with him.

Donghyuck hesitates. Droplets of rain hit his face form an opening above them, and Jeno presses closer, until they have their own little shelter. 

“Donghyuck?” Jeno asks, softer this time. Around them, the rain is suddenly deafening and this is it, this is Donghyuck’s moment, his _chance_. 

He thinks about Renjun, how sure he was that Jeno feels the same way about him, and he yells, “I like you!” with a burst of courage he didn’t know he had.

Donghyuck’s never confessed to anyone before. Not to Jaemin, not to his next-door neighbor who was too old for him and out of his league when Donghyuck was having his sexuality crisis. He isn’t sure what to expect.

It’s dark underneath the cover of Jeno’s denim jacket. (They’ve been hiding under it long enough for rain to start soaking through the fabric, falling against Jeno’s cheeks in droplets that Donghyuck so desperately wants to brush away).

He can barely make out Jeno’s face, but it’s enough to watch emotions flicker across it. Surprise, acceptance, and something Donghyuck dares to hope is a good sign.

“You like me?” Jeno asks, and there’s no hiding the surprise in his voice. 

Donghyuck, somehow, feels indescribably small. _Love_ makes him feel small. 

And yet, he repeats himself. Louder, because what point is there in holding back? If he’s going to do this, he might as well be confident about it. He thinks about Renjun, and repeats, “I like you,” as firmly as he can.

They feel too close all of a sudden. Donghyuck can make out the shape of Jeno’s lips and the raindrops gathering on his eyelashes.

“Oh, Donghyuck. Do you really?” Jeno asks, and Donghyuck’s heart _lurches,_ until it’s straining against his ribcage, trying to break free.

“ _Yes,_ idiot,” and with it comes another burst of courage, and all of a sudden, he’s gently pushing away the hair falling into Jeno’s eyes.

“You wouldn’t believe how surprised I was when you came out,” Donghyuck continues, emboldened by another surge of courage. “One of the things holding me back was the fact that you were always so unreachable.”

Donghyuck’s voice trails off, until it’s just them and the rain. When he looks into Jeno’s eyes, they’re unreadable, shifting and far away from him.

“It’s okay if you don’t feel the same,” Donghyuck says quietly. “I just, I thought maybe you should know.”

He’s about to continue, about to say, _There’s something else you should know_ and _I’m sorry, I really am_ when Jeno smiles.

Seeing Jeno smile is like watching the sun crack through the clouds, or rise in the morning when the entire world is still sleeping. It fills Donghyuck with an insurmountable amount of happiness, helps him breathe a little easier.

“Donghyuck,” He starts, and something tingles down the back of Donghyuck’s spine when he hears Jeno say his name.

“Can I kiss you?” Jeno asks. He is so sure, so confident and determined that Donghyuck almost says _Yes, of course you can, what do you think I’ve been waiting for all this time?_

Instead, Donghyuck says, “Actually, I have something else to tell you first.”

He swallows back his dread, knowing he has to do this the right way. He takes a deep breath, and continues talking over the sound of the storm.

—

The fan in Donghyuck’s room buzzes quietly, but he acts as if he doesn’t hear it.

Renjun, tired of the silence, pesters him. “Well? Are you gonna tell me what happened?”

Donghyuck swallows nervously. _Moment of truth,_ he thinks. _I could lose them both._

“It’s complicated,” Donghyuck starts.

Renjun looks over at him from where he’s laying on the other side of his bed, locking his phone and placing it flat on his chest.

“Complicated?” Renjun sounds worried now, and Donghyuck understands.

He shrugs. “I told him.”

Renjun gasps sharply, sitting up. He scoots closer to Donghyuck, crossing his legs and resting his elbows on his knees.

“Well? How did he take it?” Renjun demands, waving his hand in a gesture for Donghyuck to go on, and Donghyuck thinks he might be blushing dark red all the way to his toes.

“He, um,” Donghyuck clears his throat, “asked if he could kiss me.”

Renjun’s jaw drops, and he’s yelling, “I told you so!” before Donghyuck can even get another word out.

Donghyuck smiles, tight-lipped and worried as he waits for Renjun to calm down. There’s no turning back at this point, considering he already told Jeno.

“Well?” Renjun leads forward. “Did you kiss him? Wait, are you guys dating now? I refuse to third—“

Donghyuck cuts him off with a quiet, “I told him I like you too.”

Renjun blinks, and Donghyuck watches him slowly soak up the information.

“You said _what_? Why would you say such a thing?” Renjun asks, and he is terribly indifferent, so closed off and nothing Donghyuck has ever seen before. It makes his skin crawl, and he wishes he’d never said anything. Not to Jeno, not to Renjun. 

Donghyuck sighs. “I couldn’t lie to him.”

The silence between them only grows, and Donghyuck thinks he might be losing his best friends.

After a while, Renjun finally meets his eyes.

“I don’t understand. Do you like Jeno?” Renjun asks, eyebrows pinching together.

Numb to his very bones, Donghyuck nods.

Renjun frowns. “But you like me?”

Again, Donghyuck nods. He doesn’t know what else to do.

“I don’t understand. How can you like us both?” Renjun sounds equal parts exasperated and lost.

“I don’t know.” Donghyuck’s voice is unusually small, collapsing in on itself with every word. “I’m really sorry. I just, I couldn’t tell Jeno and pretend like I didn’t feel the same way about you.”

Renjun sits in stunned silence, unmoving. Donghyuck wishes he knew what to say in this situation, but nothing could’ve ever prepared him for telling both of his best friends how he feels about them.

“Jeno wants to talk it out,” Donghyuck says. His voice floats through the room, drifting away from Renjun. “I wanted to tell you first though. If you don’t want to be friends or talk about it, then I understand.”

But all he can think about is Jeno. Jeno, who wants them all to work it out. To talk it through and establish an understanding between the three of them.

His words seem to wake something in Renjun, who sits up straight. 

“Stop being friends?” A crooked smile. “Not a chance. We can get through this.”

Donghyuck, despite himself, smiles. He’s not losing Renjun; Jeno isn’t losing Renjun. Whatever happens, they can work through it.

“Then…” Donghyuck lets his voice trail off.

“Let’s go meet Jeno, yeah?” A hopeful smile this time. Donghyuck lets himself believe in their future for a fraction of a second.

—

Maybe Renjun’s backyard isn’t the best place to do this, but Renjun lays out a quilt-patterned blanket on the grass by a tree and places a tray of watermelon slices on top of it, and they all make themselves comfortable regardless.

For the first couple of seconds, they sit in awkward silence, unable to look at one another. Donghyuck traces the stitches in the blanket with the tips of his fingertips, waiting for either one of them to speak.

When they don’t, he clears his throat.

“I’m really sorry for putting you guys through all this,” Donghyuck starts, swallowing down the guilt he’s been carrying ever since he told Jeno. “I probably shouldn’t have ever said anything.”

“ _No._ It’s good that you did,” Jeno insists. He reaches out with his hand, searching for Donghyuck’s.

Because Donghyuck is selfish, he twines their fingers together. 

Renjun, on the other hand, is silent. Donghyuck looks over at him, concerned. He seems so far away. Donghyuck wants to anchor him back to the shore, drag him out from the depths of the sea.

“How would this work?” Renjun asks. He pauses. “I guess what I want to know is what _you_ want.”

Donghyuck shakes his head. “What I want doesn’t matter if neither of you want it.”

“I want it,” Jeno says firmly, before Donghyuck can even explain.

Renjun cocks his head to the side, like he’s taking Donghyuck apart with his eyes.

“And what exactly is it that you want?” Moment of truth, Donghyuck realizes. He can’t keep dodging the topic or ghosting around it.

 _It’s simple,_ he thinks to himself. _Just say it._

Jeno looks over at him warmly, squeezing his hand as reassurance. Renjun, however, sits patiently, waiting for him to explain.

In the end, all Donghyuck can do is shrug and say, “A relationship.”

Renjun purses his lips. 

“With who, Donghyuck? You can’t be with us both,” Renjun says, and it’s softer than Donghyuck expected. Donghyuck expected anger and denial and a clear as day _Get away from me, from both of us._

This is only marginally better, but Donghyuck sticks with what he has.

“Why not?” Donghyuck challenges. “It’s not like no one’s ever done it before.”

“That doesn’t mean it’ll work out between us. Jeno goes to school in _Seattle,_ Donghyuck. I’m in L.A., you’re not,” Renjun retorts. Donghyuck watches him chip away at a flock of paint on the edge of his knee, mesmerized. Halfway through, Renjun gives up, looking back up at both of them.

Forcing himself to snap out of it, Donghyuck counters with, “We’re about to be juniors, anyways. It can’t be that hard.”

As soon as the words leave his mouth, Donghyuck realizes how silly it sounds. _Really? It can’t be that hard?_

Long-distance relationships are anything but easy. He’s watched plenty of high school sweethearts break up once they all fluttered to different parts of the world. That doesn’t mean it won’t happen to them either.

Renjun shakes his head.

“You don’t know that,” He reminds Donghyuck.

So maybe their future is unsteady, if they even have one. Maybe it’s new and different and nothing any of them have ever experienced before.

Donghyuck, at least, is willing to give it a shot. In the dark or not, he wants to know if they can do it. (Love makes him risky, makes him greedy and makes him want more than he can handle).

Jeno looks between the both of them, still holding Donghyuck’s hand. The slices of watermelon sit in the tray, by the corner of the blanket, untouched and forgotten.

(Donghyuck isn’t very hungry. It’s too hot for home to think about food right now).

“If this is too weird…” Donghyuck pauses, unsure of how to go on. Jeno smiles comfortingly at him, but doesn’t say anything.

Renjun shakes his head. “I don’t know.”

“I don’t know how I feel about this,” Renjun continues. 

Donghyuck opens his mouth, ready to say _anything_ to convince Renjun otherwise,but Jeno beats him to it.

“Maybe you can start with how you feel about us,” Jeno says softly. “That should be more than enough, right?”

Renjun looks between the two of them, at a loss for words. Donghyuck feels himself starting to shiver despite the heat, and he wishes this was _easier_ , that talking and untangling feelings was a little less complicated.

“I, uh,” Renjun clears his throat, looking a little helpless, “I’m not sure.”

Donghyuck looks over at Jeno helplessly, not knowing what to do at this point. Next to him, Jeno pulls his hand away. 

He reaches for Renjun’s hand instead, and says, “You can take your time. Think about it.”

Jeno stands up, looking over at Donghyuck as he does so, and all Donghyuck can think about is how beautiful he is.

But he doesn’t say anything. Renjun doesn’t either and it should _hurt_ , but it doesn’t. He never expected it to end well, never allowed himself to hope that it would.

So he and Jeno leave, shoulder by shoulder and silent as they leave through the backyard, Renjun still sitting on the blanket.

The weight of the summer heat presses down on Donghyuck’s shoulders all the while, hot and unrelenting.

—

Jeno’s voice is soft over the droning of Donghyuck’s fan.

“Is it too weird?” He asks, from where he’s laying on Donghyuck’s bed. “Does he think we’re weird?”

Donghyuck tries not to think about how Jeno’s managed to summarize all of his insecurities into a few words, and instead says, “Of course not. We need to let him think about it. You know that.”

Jeno sighs, eyelashes fluttering as he closes his eyes. When he speaks, they’re still closed.

“I want him to agree to this. To us,” Jeno confesses. “That’s not fair of me, is it? I didn’t even think of him in that way when you told me you had a crush on both of us.”

Donghyuck tilts his head back against the frame of his bed, unusually quiet.

Jeno doesn’t notice. “But it’s, like, everything changed, you know? All of a sudden the things I wanna do with you include him. It’s driving me crazy.”

Donghyuck, despite the radio silence from Renjun these past few days, smiles. 

_Welcome to my world,_ he thinks inwardly. _I missed having you here with me._

“I’m not crazy, right?” Jeno asks, propping himself up on his elbows, and _oh,_ he’s looking right at Donghyuck now. He’s still not used to it, to the shift in Jeno ever since he told him about his crush. _Crushes_.

Donghyuck shakes his head adamantly. “Not at all. I’ve felt that way for a long time. It just took me a while to realize it. Maybe the same thing is happening to you.”

Jeno plops back down onto the bed, staring up at Donghyuck’s ceiling. He fits right in within the walls of Donghyuck’s room, shining in his faded yellow t-shirt and washed out shorts he’s been wearing since high school. 

The fan fills the silence between them, droning on and on as it blows hot air around the room, tricking them into thinking it’s slowly cooling down. 

“I wonder what he’s gonna say,” Jeno muses, like he hasn’t said it 6 times since the last time they saw Renjun in his backyard.

Summer days feel longer without Renjun around. Both he and Jeno are feeling the repercussions of missing him from their days. It’s easy to pretend that everything’s normal when they talk about next semester classes and bad professors or the time Jeno bakes brownies in a _bowl_ because he didn’t go shopping before sophomore year began.

“There’s no point in dwelling on it.” Donghyuck leans over to grab a lollipop on his dresser, carefully unwrapping the stubborn paper around it. “He’ll come to us eventually.”

Jeno looks over at him, and even now, with the curtains drawn and blinds closed in Donghyuck’s room, he is glowing, brimming with love and sunlight. Like his hair is still that shade of beach blonde and a stark reminder of all the summers he’s spent on the beach.

Donghyuck smiles despite himself.

When Jeno reaches out for his hand, he doesn’t say anything. There’s no need to. The understand each other regardless.

—

Donghyuck’s strawberry lemonade smoothie sits on the table in front of him, untouched. It is 6 in the evening and he physically cannot stop himself from drumming his fingers across the table, nervous.

The girls at the next table over look up from their laptops, annoyance flashing across their faces.

Donghyuck stops, but thinks, _Maybe you should’ve gone somewhere else to study._

He taps his phone screen, which displays the last messages he’s received, bright and demanding. He swallows nervously, before turning his phone back off. There’s no point in repeatedly staring at it, like that’ll change what’s written on it.

Instead, he reaches for his smoothie. He doesn’t drink it, not with the way his stomach is rebelling against him, but sticks to swirling the straw around, desperately wishing they’d done this anywhere but here.

Except _here_ is comfortable to him. Donghyuck feels at home amidst the fluorescent lighting and the low buzzing of conversation throughout the shop, quiet enough to give him peace but loud enough to remind him that he is not alone. He lets go of the straw in between his fingers, pushing it away. 

Just the sight of it makes his stomach turn, and he knows that it is simply the nervousness taking over his body.

He hears the familiar _chime_ of the door, and when he looks up, Jeno is walking towards him, hands in the pockets of his shorts and a crescent sort of smile on his face. Even from across the room it is bright.

Donghyuck somehow manages to smile back as Jeno sits right next to him—not across, like he usually does—and reaches for his smoothie.

“You can have it,” Donghyuck says, not even waiting for him to ask. “I think I’m gonna be sick if I drink it.”

Jeno laughs, loud and clear. “I think you might be nervous enough for the both of us.”

Donghyuck shrugs. He can’t help it. No breathing technique or meditation can calm the storm raging inside of him, stemming from nervousness and manifesting into something more. Something akin to despair.

(Or maybe he’s overreacting).

He’s about to speak, to say anything about the nerves eating him alive, when he hears the door _chime_ once more. A sinking feeling roots deep in his chest, and Donghyuck thinks, _This is it._

Renjun doesn’t look any different than the last time Donghyuck saw him. He carries himself with the marks of paint splashed across his jeans and the usual confidence Donghyuck has come to associate him with. He decides to take it as a good omen.

Next to him, Jeno breathes in deeply.

Renjun smiles at them a little hesitantly as he pulls out a chair for him, sitting across from them. 

Awkward silence grows between them with every passing second, to the point where Donghyuck’s about to straight up _ask_ what Renjun wants to tell them.

Before he can do that, Renjun smiles.

“I missed you guys,” He admits, and there goes Donghyuck’s heart, flip-flopping without restraint and pushing against his ribcage. Like it wants to be free.

Next to him, Jeno’s smiling.

“We missed you too,” Jeno says. He looks over at Donghyuck. “Right?”

There’s no point in hiding it, is there? Donghyuck’s fallen in love under fluorescent lighting for the second time and he can’t hide it anymore. All he can do is hope that Renjun’s fallen in love too. That he isn’t alone in all of this. That they’ll go through it _together._

“Yeah.” His voice sounds too hoarse. He wants to ask, wants to _know_ so, so badly. Renjun must sense his fidgeting, because he smiles.

“I didn’t mean to take so long to sort out my feelings,” Renjun apologizes, looking between the two of them and Donghyuck thinks there’s something about Renjun that has him so head-over-heels in love. 

(What’s stopping him from crashing head-first? Donghyuck fell in love with no regards for his own heart and what happens to it when this is all over).

“You deserved to take as much time as you needed,” Jeno reassures, smiling warmly. Donghyuck nods numbly, but it’s so hard to pay attention, to _focus,_ when Renjun still hasn’t told them anything yet.

Maybe Donghyuck is selfish. He thinks that’s what love does to people. Love is equal parts beautiful and destructive, but Donghyuck doesn’t mind. He’s here for whatever happens, ready to pick up the pieces if it goes badly and all of a sudden he’s heartbroken for the first time in his life.

Renjun breathes in slowly, eyes fluttering shut.

It feels like time is slowing down, like the hourglass won’t let any sand spill downwards and all of a sudden Donghyuck is cupping all the time in the world through the palm of his hand, waiting.

“I think,” Renjun begins, but when he looks between the both of them, he falters. “I think I like you guys.”

Relief blooms in Donghyuck’s chest so quickly that it takes a moment for his sensory-to-brain mechanism to start working. He doesn’t process the information until Jeno’s squeezing his hand out of excitement and Renjun’s shot asking, “Did you hear me, Donghyuck?”

Donghyuck doesn’t answer. He’s too busy falling in love with the sun and the moon seated next to him (God, Donghyuck cannot believe that he had the fucking privilege of falling in love with his best friends), falling in love under the fluorescent lighting and hub of customers surrounding them. It is both terribly public and strangely intimate. 

Renjun’s eyes shine with unexplained tears when Donghyuck finally says, “I’m not dreaming, am I?”

Jeno’s the first to answer him. “No, Donghyuck. I don’t think you are.”

Donghyuck looks between the two of them, between the people he revolves around, and smiles.

“I’m not dreaming,” Donghyuck repeats. Renjun _wants_ this. He wants them in the same way Donghyuck has wanted them for years, has wanted ever since they left for college and suddenly everything reminded him of them.

Renjun scoots closer in his chair, until his hands envelop Donghyuck’s own, as soft and warm as he’s always remembered.

“I’m sorry,” Renjun says, and before Donghyuck can ask what he means, he adds, “I’m sorry for taking so long to realize how I felt. I should’ve known right away.”

It is both jarring and electrifying to hear Renjun talk about his newfound feelings. Donghyuck thinks he could listen for ages.

“Renjun,” Donghyuck admonishes, right as Jeno shakes his head in disbelief. “Don’t apologize. It’s not like what we proposed was exactly conventional or something you hear about often. You had every right to be confused and unsure.”

Donghyuck smiles. “But, for what it’s worth, I’m really, really glad you aren’t anymore.”

”Yeah. So am I,” Renjun responds.   
  
This is real. Renjun’s here, across from him in the bubble tea shop they’ve been meeting at since Donghyuck was nothing more than a gangly teenager, out of place and unsure of himself, and this is _happening_. 

Donghyuck is beyond ecstatic, especially when Jeno leans forward, and asks, “Are you sure you want this?”

Nothing can even come close to the reassurance and firmness in Renjun’s voice when he says, “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

**Author's Note:**

> debating a second part......one thats just norenhyuck exploring their relationship n learning how it works...(esp once summer ends) but idk if itll ever happen? just know i am having Thoughts about it
> 
> wahhh i forgot to put this before but! i got a few comments saying this fic is comforting n relatable which makes me all !!!!!! but i just wanna say this fic is inspired by my friend groups dynamic n my personal story of coming out (n a little bit of my friends, except i changed it slightly to fit with this fic) n how i dealt with high school ending n my friends n i all leaving for college idk i guess i just really hardcore Projected onto this fic n thought i would explain it some more..im really glad its comforting to some people! <3


End file.
